


A strange looking justice

by ofwyrmsandguns



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: (but buried in a fallen house alive), Buried Alive, Clive's destroying the city with a mobile fortress, Explosions, Gen, No one explicitly dies but Al does tease recently orphaned children about their dead parents, Terrorism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 06:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofwyrmsandguns/pseuds/ofwyrmsandguns
Summary: The mobile fortress is destroying London. While the Professor and Luke are rushing to stop it, the people of London are running to survive, and the rest of England is listening with bated breath.





	1. The Restaurant

A long day of meetings and talks had finally given away to a peaceful night together in the hotel restaurant. The radio played soothing classical throughout the room, and Brenda and Clark enjoyed the peacefulness of eating together. The food was sublime; Luke would be ever so jealous. But he certainly wasn't missing much of their day-to-day activities, and there was no doubt that he was much more content with Hershel than he would be with them.

The music was cut off suddenly, grabbing everyone's attention.

“Breaking news from London. There appears to be some sort of massive mobile fortress destroying the city. All residents are recommended to immediately evacuate their homes. Buildings are not standing up to this machine.”

There was considerable confusion echoing across the restaurant. Clark grabbed Brenda's hand as they continued to listen.

“Reports are saying that the machine rose from beneath the ground, destroying numerous streets as it rose. It also appears to be firing weapons. This is not a drill. Please evacuate the city as quickly and as safely as you are able.”

The diners all glanced around at each other. The hotel was not in the city, thankfully, but when such chaos is happening within your country, everyone can't help but feel the panic. Especially when it's in the capital.

“Brenda, Luke is-”

“With Hershel, I'm sure they're keeping each other safe, Clark.” Brenda quickly assured him. But Clark's face had gone pale, the food on their plates long forgotten now.

“Of course, of course.” He mumbled, still staring up at the speakers as if willing them to deliver him the personal message that his son was safe. Other diners had already shot out of their seats to phone home to check on their families; there'd only be a queue if they went now. And if London was meant to be evacuated, it would only be a risk to ring Hershel now and hold them up, just to ask if they were safe. “It's just... you know what they're like. They'd run towards that beast, not away from it.”

“Have some faith in your friend. He cares for Luke almost as much as we do.” Brenda assured him, although at least half of it was for her own sake. They didn't let go of each other.

“One of our on the street reporters is there within the police mandated safe zone, with a member of the public who claims to have seen the whole thing. Frank, what's going on out there?”

The report had the background noise of yelling and sirens, orders thrown back and forth by police trying to move people as far from the machine as possible. Every so often, a distant thud could be heard, followed by more frantic instructions.

“Evening Ted, it's pandemonium out here. That machine must've crushed a dozen streets underfoot, and those missiles it keeps firing are definitely hitting people's homes. It's spine chilling seeing all these houses beneath the machine so dark. You must be feeling very safe in your studio in Bristol.”

“I can't tell you how lucky I feel tonight that my family just moved out of London, Frank.”

“I'm here with a girl who says she was underground when the machine rose up. Belle, please tell us what you saw.”

“Well, that big machine just rose up out of the water and started destroying everything! It pulled down the sky and climbed up out of the hole.”

“The sky?”

“Well, it turns out I was underground, so what I thought was the sky was pulled down. My betrothed Fluke told me to escape through the clock shop, so now here I am.”

“Your betrothed? Is he here with you?”

“No, he went to go take on that nasty machine. Oh, my dear Flukey, so brave and noble, come back to me safe!”

“BBC radio does not approve of trying to fight the machine yourselves, please everyone get to safety. Back to you Ted.”

“Well said Frank. We'll return to Frank when he has updates.”

The diners and waiters had all stopped now, listening in to the broadcast with silent horror. “That has to be some kind of joke, right?” Someone asked loudly, tittering nervously.

No-one was laughing though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo guess who has actually had to sit around and listen about terrorist attacks happening in her country's capital? It's very tense, even if I do live hundreds of miles away and also know like 1 londoner (and I didn't know him at the time of the attack). Poor Clark and Brenda.


	2. The Flat

The ground shook underfoot, knocking everyone on the street off balance. Some people screamed in shock, but the shaking didn't stop. It got stronger and stronger, people clung on to each other, the walls anything to stay up right. Emmy grabbed a woman and her child and pulled them to the lamppost she had hold of.

The next second was drowned out by the smashing and explosions of ground and roads, masking the screams and panicked instructions as the shaking finally stopped. Emmy turned around to the direction of the sound, and couldn't stifle her gasp.

A machine, more fearsome and monstrous than she could ever have thought up was steadily looming over London, far too close for comfort. It stood almost stationary for what felt like an eternity, before cannons manoeuvred across the sides, aiming, before smoke told her that they had fired.

The whistle and explosion sent more panicked screams through the crowd.

People rushed from their houses to see the commotions, joined the panicked masses as people fled the sight, with no direction or destination in mind but to get away. Emmy found herself running alongside the woman she'd grabbed, her child wailing in fear. Without thinking, Emmy offered to carry the child, to speed them all up, still unsure of where they were going.

Those quakes were still happening, and only getting nearer.

“We have a basement! Get inside to safety!” Came a frantic shout from a man stood outside an open door. People piled in past him as he kept shouting. “We have a basement! Please join us!”

“Is this safe?” Emmy asked as she passed him by. The man shrugged.

“If you want to take your chances with the machine, be my guest. But it's headed this way.”

Emmy looked over her shoulder to see he wasn't lying. The machine had positively been looming before, but now it was practically overhead. Those cannons were aimed at the streets, those feet at the houses, and right now below ground certainly seemed safer than above it.

She rushed past with a quick thanks.


	3. The street

Alfendi was yanked hand first out of the house by his papa, wincing at the rough treatment. He hadn't meant to insult papa's friend, it just sort of slipped out. But papa was fuming, not even bothering to hide it like he usually did.

“Stupid boy. I should've left you with your mother at home.” He growled, dragging Al through the streets towards the nearest bus stop. He walked so much faster than Al could.

“I didn't mean to.” Al whined, his papa stopping short so Al crashed into him.

“Didn't mean to means squat. What a sorry excuse that is.” He snapped, Al flinching away from him. He really hadn't meant it, but papa wasn't listening. Al wanted nothing more than to be home with mama now, she was at least softer at her punishments.

The ground shook beneath them, Al screaming in confusion, grabbing onto Papa for support. Papa staggered against a nearby wall, staring up at the sky as a dark metallic monster rose above London.

“What's happening?” Al cried out. He'd heard of earth quakes before, but England wasn't meant to get earthquakes like this. And what was the monster rising above the city?

Papa didn't respond, only clasping his hand around Al's wrist tighter as he pulled the child into a run, pushing past frantic people running in the opposite direction. Al could barely keep up, and the stares of people as they passed started to grate on him. What were they staring at him for, those idiots? There's a monster attacking London.

A woman grabbed Papa and started shouting. “What do you think you're doing? The machine's that way!” She was pointing in the direction Al and Papa were headed. Papa roughly shoved her aside.

“And so is my wife!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering the anime tells us that theres 2 years between Unwound future and Kat's birth, and that LBMR and LMJ tells us there's about 8 years between Al and Kat, we can deduce that Al was 6 years old at the time the fortress attacked London.


	4. Crowded

The basement had been filled beyond capacity. Cries echoed around the old stone walls, families cuddled up together, soothing each other. People travelling alone formed groups for comfort; no one wanted to be facing their death alone.

The ground wouldn't stop shaking, each new shake stronger than the last, each met with more screams, quickly shushed by parents. Adults were shaking in fear, trying to put on smiles for the children, to make it seem less terrifying than it was. Emmy found herself still sat my the woman, who introduced herself as Jackie, and her son, Bobby. Bobby was curled up in his mother's arms, while Emmy tried to keep her cool, shouting out words of encouragement to keep spirits up.

Then the lights went out, plunging the basement into pitch blackness, accompanied by more screaming, the quakes ever stronger, the steps close enough to drown out each and every person huddled together.

The world seemed to teeter for a moment in the pitch black and silence.

Then it came. A horrific smashing, crashing sound, tonnes of bricks falling above their heads, harmonising with everyone's screams, their last words as the machine destroyed the building above their heads. Emmy instinctively grabbed the boy and his mother, whether to try and shield them or find her own comfort, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that her world seemed to be ending, here, in the dark, cramped basement.

And there was nothing she could do to stop it.


	5. Separated

Papa ran far too fast, barely paying attention to Al shouting for him to slow down. He didn't seem to realise when Al fell from his grasp, the young boy still chasing him down, begging him to stop. Crowds of frantic, panicked people quickly separated them from each others sights, and it wasn't long before Al was alone.

He didn't mind being alone, but that monster was staring at him.

Still the crowds were running past him, some people shouting at him to run, but he never followed the orders of a stranger, and he couldn't seem to get his legs to move. The monster's spikes were moving now, a shot of smoke firing from one, a whistle drawing Al's attention to the next street over.

And the explosion forcing him to cover his ears.

Someone grabbed Al's arm as they ran past, standing over him, yelling some instruction at him, but he couldn't hear over the chaos. He pulled his arm out of the person's grasp, yelling at them to let go as he did, but his voice too was lost. He turned to chase where he'd last seen his dad head, the person trying to give chase, but Al was too quick, too nimble.

Up until he ran straight into a massive woman.

She took one look at him and grabbed Al, flinging him over her shoulder as she continued to run, ignoring his kicks and screams to be let down, more explosions hit the buildings around them as they ran. But the woman never faltered, overtaking so many people in her bid to get herself and the young, lost boy she'd found to safety.

The monster still stared at him over her shoulder.


	6. Heroics

The restaurant was packed now; people who had no intention of eating, or had already finished, or were going to eat later, had all descended upon the restaurant to listen to the news. The hotel manager had pulled out a TV and set it up, the signal fuzzy but better than nothing. The machine was nothing like they could ever had feared. It was massive, taller than any of the skyscrapers and heavier than the earth itself. The radio presenters hadn't been lying about the weapons being fired off.

The screen showed the machine in between cuts of the panic that had erupted; hundreds upon thousands of people were fleeing through the streets. The reporters said the underground had been closed, and the buses were trying their best to take people in the danger zones outside it. Shots showed that the buses were jam packed, far over a safe capacity, but people were still trying to get on board regardless. The sheer number of small children riding those buses without an adult drove icy daggers into Clark's chest.

He'd managed to secure a space as close to the TV as possible to get the best view; he wasn't above pleading for it, citing that his son was still in London. Enough people had taken pity to let him sit on the floor in the front row. Brenda still sat at the table, no doubt holding her breath.

The reporter was listing off streets that had already been destroyed, either when the machine rose up or that had been in the way of those feet as it made its slow way through the city. Clark recognised the affected area in an instant, and knew for certain that it was far enough away from Hershel's home that, so long as Luke and himself had been there when the machine rose up, that they would no doubt be safe now. Factor in the Laytonmobile, and they could practically be halfway to Clark's hotel. He had to stay positive anyway.

“The machine seems to have stopped its advance for now.” The reporter announced. “But there's no telling if it could- hang on. We're getting some unusual images at the minute of what appears to be a car falling from the machine.”

The footage cut to a grainy, over-zoomed and shaky shot of a car, possibly red but difficult to see through the dark night sky, falling nose first towards the city.

That high roof seemed far, far too familiar.

“Hershel, no...” Clark whispered, leaning forwards onto his hands. He wished he could see into the car, just to check it was his friend, to see if he'd foolishly taken his son, his only son, his most prized accomplishment, into such a deadly situation, but the footage was too poor.

He could only hope Hershel was more reliable than he was giving him credit for right now.


	7. Buried Alive

The roof didn't fall. They had that small mercy to be thankful for. But the machine didn't seem to be moving any more; it was directly overhead. Emmy wasn't claustrophobic normally, but she suddenly seemed unable to breath, still clinging on to the strangers she'd found herself buried with.

The quakes started up again, along with the cries and quick hushes. But they weren't progressing beyond them, in fact they seemed to almost be going back the way they had came. It didn't make sense, but the quakes got further and further away, and Emmy rose to her feet. If she could find a way out now, it would be much better than having to stay goodness knows how long in the basement.

She fumbled her way to the door through the dark, pulling it open and making towards the stairs. It was still pitch black out here, but a quick feel around told her that they'd been covered in rubble. Too much to move. Like it or not, she had to play damsel in distress this time and just wait it out. She retreated back into the room to share the news.

Only to be knocked off her feet onto a huddle of people as another shock wave ricochetted around the room, the rubble on the stairs audibly falling around once again. They certainly weren't getting out now, and all Emmy could do was give silent thanks that she'd left the stairwell in time. That wouldn't have been an escapable situation if she had been.


	8. Slayed

The woman had eventually stopped running, but hadn't put Al down yet. No doubt she thought he was going to run the second she did. He had to admit that she'd be right to think so.

The monster had stopped its advance, the crowds of people were now congregating to watch it. No more explosions came from it now, but everyone stood poised to start moving again. Al had to twist himself around to watch the horrible monster, still standing still as if considering its next move.

Then it started retreating.

It wasn't as careful nor as deliberate as before, more like stumbling backwards than walking away, but everyone watched as one as it got smaller, smaller, then disappeared completely as it fell, but only for a split second before electric light lit up the night sky, crackling and shattering street lights as it went.

But it was over. The monster was dead.

And everyone was too stunned to even celebrate.


	9. Phone call

Clark and Brenda were now stood at a payphone not far from the hotel. Everyone had taken up the hotel's phones to call and check on their loved ones, so they'd retreated to the relative quiet of outside. The streets were silent, everyone was glued to their TVs and radios, watching the fallout of the machine. It had apparently started snowing but whether it was natural snow or a side effect of the machines rampage was still to be seen. The advice was to stay inside and hold your families close.

The phone rang itself out again, with still no answer. Clark cursed under his breath and dialled again.

“It's ringing, at least. If the line was cut it wouldn't ring.” Clark said out loud. Hershel's house was likely still intact then, but it wouldn't matter in the slightest. It had been the Laytonmobile that had fallen from the machine, then turned into an aeroplane. Clark wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. His good friend's treasured hat could be seen within it.

The phone rang itself out once more and Brenda pulled Clark into a hug for comfort. “They'll be fine.” She said, barely hiding the tremble in her voice. “Surely the news would have reported if London's saviours were injured.”

Clark dialled again regardless, his grip on the phone vice-like, willing for someone to pick up. Anyone.

Someone did.

“Professor Layton residence, Lu-”

“LUKE!” Clark yelled, tears springing to his eyes as he held the phone as if it was Luke himself. “Oh Luke, are you alright? We saw the news, we saw Hershel's car. Are you injured?” The questions came out as a barrage, Clark unable to help himself. He held the phone out slightly so Brenda could hear it too.

“I'm fine Dad, honest!” Luke said. “It's just Dad, Professor.”

“And me.” Brenda piped up.

“And Mum.” Luke added. “The Professor says hello.”

“We've been trying to call you for hours. What on earth were you two doing up there?” Clark asked, trying to keep his tone even despite the clash of emotions going on behind it.

“We had to save Flora, she was trapped up there.” Luke explained.

“You can tell us all about it tomorrow, sweetheart. We're coming home first thing.” Brenda said. “We just needed to know you were okay.”

“Would you mind putting Hershel on the phone, Luke? I need to talk to him.” Clark asked. He wasn't sure what he was going to say. Possibly a few choice words about taking his son somewhere so dangerous, but more than likely just thanking him for keeping Luke safe. Even if he had taken Luke to the most dangerous spot he possibly could have done.

“Not tonight, sorry Dad.” Luke apologised. “The Professor's... not really up for it tonight. It's been a really long day.” Luke's yawn was audible down the phone, and possibly 3 streets over as well.

“Alright. Tell him I'm asking after him though. We'll see you tomorrow Luke.” Clark said.

“Sleep well, Luke.” Brenda wished.

“Good night.” Luke concluded, and the phone was hung up.

Clark slowly put the phone back, letting out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding ever since the crisis was announced, and pulling Brenda into a tight hug.

Luke was safe. That's all that mattered.


	10. Lost and Found

It was far, far too loud in here.

The radios had announced that there was a call for all lost children, or parents missing children, to be brought to an old Masoners building, which is where the woman had carried Al. She hadn't trusted Al not to run away even once the monster had disappeared. Al never caught her name, he didn't really care.

The building was massive, but still it was jam packed, and the noise of countless children crying out for their parents bounced around the room. Al silently sat in the corner, glowering at anyone who dared to get near, covering his ears to drown out the other kids. The younger kids sometimes tried to comfort him, but he quickly shoved or scared them away.

They'd all been sorted alphabetically by surname, their home addresses taken from any of the kids that knew what it was. Al had been placed in a smaller group than the main lot of children, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why.

“The monster's destroyed our homes.” He announced at one point. “That's why we're all together. Everyone else from there is probably dead.”

“Don't say that.” A little girl had begged him. “Mummy's still alive, I know she is.”

Al glared at her. “The monster rose up on our streets, it dragged the houses and everyone in them down to hell. They're dead.” Al insisted. “You had better hope they're dead too, otherwise they're buried under bricks, and they're gonna die really slowly.”

Al had then been separated from that small group and placed in a corner by himself. He didn't mind, all those kids were crying too loudly anyway.

London never really did chaos. None of England did, but London always prided itself on it. Whatever happened, the people of London always wanted to get back to normal as soon as possible, even if it meant sitting upon piles of rubble that was once their homes to drink their tea. The advice was given to stay at home and embrace their families, so long as you didn't live in the current exclusion zone around the gaping hole in London.

But the advise that came after it of where to bring any lost children spotted around London had grabbed much more attention. Soft hearted folk all over the city suddenly realised that, while they had their children in their arms, other children were alone that night, without parents to chase away the nightmares, either because they'd been separated or their parents were just never going to return. And so those people had descended upon the masoners hall, laden with blankets and pillows and teddy bears, books for the children to read and hot chocolate to keep them warm when the snow fell outside. Some people had brought sweets and chocolates for the children to enjoy, which Al thought was a horrific idea, since now there were plenty of children too hyper to sleep the night away.

The hall was still a flurry of activity late through the night and early into the morning. Parents desperately answered flurries of police questions, more children were dropped off than picked up, and any time someone was collected and taken away, other children started crying. It was far too loud to sleep, so most of the kids used it as an excuse for a massive sleepover, playing loud and rambunctious games. They all quickly learned to avoid Al, who still sat in his corner, covered by a blanket and reading a book far below his level.

“Alright, son?” A large man Al had never seen before asked. He was very hairy, and handed Al a cup of hot chocolate. “Not feeling up to the games tonight?”

“No. Those games are stupid.” Al huffed, not raising his eyes from his book. He'd already read it ten times, but there was nothing else to do.

“Mind if I sit with you, then? I need a break.” The man asked, sitting beside Al before he got an answer. “The name's Grosky, by the way. I'm a police officer.”

“I guessed that.” Al snorted. The police were running the show here, making sure the children only went back with their actual parents and no-one tried to nab any kids while they weren't looking.

“I've heard you've been upsetting the other children, any reason why?” Grosky asked.

“They're gonna find out sooner or later.” Al shrugged. “Why not sooner, let them get used to the fact quicker.”

“There are kinder ways to break that news, son. Leave it to us, alright?” Grosky asked. Al didn't reply. “I'm guessing you've already given up your folks for dead, then?” Grosky asked softly.

“No. Mum's smart, and dad was with me when that monster attacked. They'll be fine.” Al answered a little quicker than he'd meant to. He didn't want the officer's pity, even if he was right.

“Of course. Of course.” Grosky agreed, which made Al scowl.

“Who killed the monster?” Al asked, finally looking up.

“Eh? The monster?” Grosky asked.

“The one that destroyed London! They must've been big and strong to take down a beast like that!” Al chattered a little excitedly. Big, strong and brutal, nothing else stood a chance.

“Well, big brained maybe.” Grosky hummed a grin forming on his face. “It was Professor Hershel Layton, a local academic. He's always up to these kind of heroics. But I wouldn't describe him as big or strong.”

Al scowled. How could anyone take down a monster like that without being the biggest, scariest being in London? How could a professor manage it? This Layton guy sounded intriguing.

And Al liked intriguing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how in movies they like to be dramatic and declare that London has fallen? Yeah, no. Our cities don't fall, our people are too damn stubborn. The Blitz was happening and people still went on their merry way, those London riots were chaos but people immediatly after went about sweeping up the streets. One time there was a bomb scare that shut down my entire city while I was stood in the bus station trying to get home, and no-one cared about the bleeding bomb, those darned buses were running late!
> 
> Not even a mobile fortress could stop fantasy london.
> 
> Are Al's parents alive? I suppose you could guess it for yourself.


	11. Rescue

They'd waited down in that dark, suffocating basement for what felt like years before deciding that the ordeal was over, and that the next step was to try and escape. The entrance had almost entirely been filled in by rubble, but there were a lot of hands to try and help.

Emmy organised the group, putting the strong at the front to move the rocks out of the stairwell, while weaker folk helped carry them away. They formed human chains to move the rocks to the far side of the basement as quickly as possible, each person handing the rocks they'd just been handed to the next, and so on and so on.

It was slow going, but the goal wasn't an exit. They needed a breathing hole, some way to shout for help from above. There was no way all this rubble could be moved by just them alone.

Their salvation came at midday the next day, when their shouts were finally replied to by a police officer, who came back an hour later and demanded they all stand back as rescue workers set about moving what remained of the house. It took until late at night before it was safe to come out, to see what remained of London. Emmy was silently pleased to see that it hadn't been entirely flattened.

Many of the houses surrounding them had signs of the machine having crushed them or smashed through them, and the houses way further away had clear scorch marks where the machines weapons had set them alight. There wasn't any news on the number of casualties or injuries, but one name rang clear as London saviour.

“Professor Hershel Layton.” The police officer had said with a bright smile. “London's finest gentleman, saving the day once again.”

Emmy couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face. Some things clearly never changed.


End file.
